The Snowstorm Covers
by sleepy hippo
Summary: General Winter has been living in Russia's house, refusing to give way to the summer. Russia does not know why and the General will not talk to him until one day an encounter in the snow gives him a chance at redemption.


There is a short story by Oscar Wilde called 'The Selfish Giant', it's a children's story but it's sweet and sad and has a really memorable quality to it. I have no idea what made me think of it but when I did and read about winter not leaving the giant's garden it made me think of Russia and General Winter. This is kind of the result of that. It has allusions to The Selfish Giant and later on to the Snow Queen, two tales that made me feel really sad as a kid, and uncomfortable. Now as an adult (kind of) I can appreciate them in a new way and still feel melancholy but instead of pushing them away, can think on them.

This story really is something different for me, a different tone and style so I have no idea really, I feel a bit miffed about the whole thing. General Winter is presented here as female, I have no idea why, as is Kumajirou, it balances out the males slightly.

**Disclaimer** - I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**The Snowstorm Covers**

**

* * *

**

"The snowstorm covers…"* Ivan muttered, sitting the book he had been reading down gently and turning his gaze to the flurry of activity beyond the window. He held his hands up for inspection sighing at the sight of the translucent white skin, tinted blue by the network of veins that shone coldly through. He hated General Winter! He cast a glance to his fellow occupant and noticed the frown directed his way.

"Will you go now?" He asked once more but the only response he got was a shaking of the lady's head, white hair gently rustling though her eyes remained as cold as ever. She never did talk. Ivan removed himself from the living room and slowly wandered upstairs hoping a bath would help to lessen the chill. He doubted it; he was cold to his very bones and feared he'd never again feel warmth, never again see a sunflower bloom. She'd been here for two years now, chilling his house and isolating him from all his friends; not that he had many to begin with.

He stepped into the steaming bath whimpering slightly as his frozen feet broke the surface causing pain to erupt wherever his skin touched the scalding water. He'd stay here until the water grew cold and only then would he reluctantly leave the bath, shivering as the frigid air of the house assaulted his wet skin. A bottle of Vodka later (in the hope that it would warm him some) and he would go to bed buried under a mountain of blankets. And just maybe tomorrow something would change.

* * *

Ivan woke up to a familiar sense of desolation. He could feel her icy aura emanating from the room next to his own. He'd leave the house before she woke: it was warmer outside than in these days. There was a garden buried in the woods that he liked visit. Although no flowers bloomed there it seemed warmer to him. He'd climb up into the bole of an old tree and see if he could convince any of the creatures that flitted through the woods like spectres to approach him. A raven was a warmer friend than the lady after all, and no doubt more communicative too.

When he exited through the doorway his mood instantly lifted and he felt just a little warmer than before, familiar scarf wrapped around his face leaving his nose peeking out above it. He looked up seeing the stars spread across the still dark sky. It would be a while till daylight yet. Daylight never lasted long anymore. The occasional snowflake lazily descended from the sky but it seemed as if the country was holding its breath, waiting for something, waiting for general winter to wake and start her assault once more. The north winds blew to her sleeping breaths but the storm snow only fell when she was awake.

Slipping into the dark forest Ivan blended into the shadows, his footsteps cushioned by the snow that had even managed to penetrate the mass of branches above. Occasionally he stumbled over a buried root but managed to arrive at his secret garden unharmed and only slightly pink from cold and exertion. As he approached the familiar tree he saw a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. He spun round but was greeted with shadowy darkness. He was going to have to try and reduce the quantity of Vodka he was drinking, he was relying on it more and more to keep him from finally losing what little sanity he still possessed. He easily swung himself into the bole of the tree but feeling restless decided to climb onto one of the branches instead. This proved a mistake. He once again had overreached himself, the higher he climbed the less stable the branches became until finally reaching too high the branch holding his weight split the stillness of the forest with a loud crack and a chaotic descent. Falling he once again seemed to see a flash of yellow but he quickly lost it as his body slammed into the ground knocking the air out of his lungs, only slightly cushioned by the snow which was not particularly thick here. He remained where he had fallen, looking up and catching glimpses of the stars through the twisted boughs.

"Kolkolkol." He chanted into the night but his laughter was more bitter than threatening. "So I am hallucinating sunflowers now, da?" He moved his head in the direction of the imagined flower.

"Ah Sunflower, weary of time,  
Who countest the steps of the sun;  
Seeking after that sweet golden clime  
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,  
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,  
Arise from their graves, and aspire  
Where my Sunflower wishes to go" **

As Ivan's voice died away and silence settled over his garden once more a slight rustling so faint it might have been imagined seemed to come from the direction that he had been staring in all this time. Being careful to be quiet Ivan rose from his sprawl and approached the edge of the rise. And there it was! For one wondrous moment he thought there was a sunflower lying in the snow but his weary gaze soon focused enough for him to recognize the shape of a boy curled tight and powdered with snow, polar bear by his side, which moved slightly as he watched.

Ivan glared at the still shape for a few minutes, offended that someone had intruded on his privet haven. Hesitantly he removed his glove and reached out a hand, moving aside the golden hair to touch the sleeping face; the boy's skin was glacial. What was he supposed to do now? If he left him here he'd surely develop hypothermia and die but he was not Russia's problem, he was definitely another nation, which explained why he wasn't already dead, but Russia couldn't place him. Had he ever tried to help Russia or had he ridiculed and cowered from him like the rest? Ivan made his way back to the bole of the tree but his gaze kept returning to where the boy lay. He let out a frustrated sigh as he approached the spot, stooping to lift the smaller male. The Polar bear sat up blinking sleep from its eyes. A cub. "Who are you, did you refuse to become one with Russia like all the others, da?" His body tensed as he heard a voice reply. He spun round the clearing seeing nothing. A polite cough. Looking down incredulously he felt his eyebrows disappear into his fringe as the Polar bear waved a paw at him.

"He's Canada." The creature barked, "You once sat on him." The bear had a curiously deadpan tone of voice. It yawned again, eyes half lidded. "What you never heard a bear talk?"

"You talk, of course." Ivan felt himself slipping into his old tone of voice, amicable and calm, it had been a while.

"You're a quick one." The bear grumbled, "Want to do something about him?" He gestured with his nose to Canada. Ivan had almost forgotten about him. Well, it wasn't everyday you heard a bear talk! Unless you where Goldilocks.

"Da." He replied making his way back to the bole of the tree. What to do? He should at least find out what this Canada was doing wandering through his country in the middle of the night. He opened his long outer coat and gently cradled the icy body against his chest, wrapping the coat around them both. At first he could feel his body get cooler as he embraced the freezing nation but eventually he too started to warm up as the shared body heat enveloped them both. Canada stirred, snuggling closer but did not wake. Ivan left him. It had been so long since he'd touched another human and he felt strangely peaceful.

Winter had woken to the day. Ivan could feel her familiar cold sink into his skin and lifting his head to the sky observed the flurries of fresh snow that had started to fall. It was time to go home, he knew, or she would come looking and find him in his refuge and break what magic it held for him with her silent, icy presence. He shook Canada's shoulder and only eliciting a small grunt, shook him more violently. Canada jerked awake, eyes shooting open to focus on his chest. He pushed himself weakly away from Ivan to look up at his face. Ivan smiled at him in his old manner, his Cheshire cat grin widening when Canada flinched.

"Eh, Mr. Russia?" Was all he said however, frowning up at Ivan.

"Da, what are you doing here?" Canada's frown deepened as he took in his surroundings, recognition eluding him.

"I don't know where here is." He muttered.

"You are in Russia." The frown turned into a scowl.

"Eh?" Canada asked himself, "I never came to Russia! Is this a trick Mr. Russia?"

Russia could feel his smile strain to become wider, "Nyet. I found you sleeping in the snow. In my privet place." He emphasized.

"Oh." Canada was staring at Ivan's chest again, unseeing. "Kuma?" He called after a brief pause.

"Yeah."

"Do you remember how we got here?"

"No."

"Do you remember anything?" Canada urged a hint of exasperation entering his voice.

"Yes, Canada, that is why I failed to mention it the first time you asked. You can't just reword a question and hope for a different answer." Canada looked at his bear, shocked.

"You remembered who I am!" He exclaimed, ignoring the sarcastic comment.

"Yes."

"Can you remember my name?" Kuma looked skyward for a second before looking directly at him.

"It…Matilda?"

Canada shrugged, "Close enough I suppose. It's Matthew."

"Almost." Kuma agreed bearing her canines in a mocking smile.

Ivan felt like they were missing the point. "Matvey." He prompted, gaining the attention of the younger nation once more.

"I'm sorry Mr. Russia, I don't know how we came to be here. I didn't mean to cause any offence to you." Ivan waved away his apology. "Eh, would it be imposing too much if I asked to visit your house?" Noting Russia's quirked eyebrow he rushed to explain, "Its just…I don't have my phone and am only wearing my pajamas and I don't know where I am. If I could just call my brother he would come and get me I think." Seeming to notice for the first time that he was still sitting on Ivan's lap he scuttled back, letting out a scream as he fell. He grabbed onto the closest thing to halt his progress but it soon gave way once more and he crashed into the ground only to be crushed moments later by Ivan. He looked at his out flung hand, noting the scarf he gripped.

"I am so sorry, I never meant to…" He trailed off as Ivan started coughing, pushing himself off the battered Canadian to sit dazed, the tree trunk supporting him. Canada cringed when he saw the fresh burn marks around his neck.

"Really I am very sor-" Ivan held up a gloved hand, and smiled, ignoring the burning pain. He gestured to his scarf. Canada scampered to him, handing it over.

"Thank you Matvey," Ivan's voice remained pleasant but as Canada made a move to shift back he reached out and grabbed his golden hair to stop him. Canada struggled against his grip for a while but only achieving a throbbing scalp he stilled once more. Ivan let go and patted his hair, warning him with a smile not to move again. He lifted up the scarf but instead of winding it around his neck once more he wound it around Canada's, laughing softly as the younger nations eyes widened in recognition - which quickly turned to horror.

Matthew threw his hand up, tearing at the material cutting off his air supply. He could feel his lungs straining, his throat bruising and crushing under the weight that Ivan steadily applied. He forced himself to let go of the material and instead latched on to Ivan's hands trying to break skin with his scratches. Ivan didn't even seem to notice, just pleasantly smiling the whole time. On the verge of passing out the restriction lessened and disappeared completely, air rushing into his lungs once again. After reveling in the lungfuls of air that he once more was able to draw, he turned his watering eyes to the male across from him still smiling his damned smile. Before he knew what he was doing he leapt, his hands wrapping around the others throat. He pulled Ivan's head forward only to push it back again to smack against the trunk of the tree. Ivan grabbed his wrists and slowly managed to pry them away. Rage still boiled through his veins though and he bit Ivan's hand, letting out a triumphant but muffled cry when his teeth broke through skin. Ivan wrenched his hand away, tearing skin, and Matthew spat out the blood that had begun to fill his mouth. He wrapped his scarf round his damaged hand and let out a gleeful laugh that echoed in Matthew's ears and twisted into a deranged jeer. Ivan reached out a hand and patted Matthew's hair once again. "Matvey must become one with Russia, da?" Matthew bolted back, repulsed.

"No. I was sorry about your neck I didn't mean to grab your scarf but it was an accident! You just tried to strangle me!"

"But I stopped." Ivan whined, confused by Matthew's anger.

"Yes but you did it in the first place!" Matthew shouted, perplexed by Ivan's skewed perception of the situation. He glared for a moment but forced himself to calm down as he was met with a blank stare.

"We are even, da?" Ivan lifted up his hand, blood soaked scarf wrapped tightly around it.

"We are not even! You tried to kill me!" Ivan had the audacity to look hurt. Matthew slumped once more, "Look just, whatever, I can see you don't really understand or care but I want to get home without dying so could I please use your phone so my brother or somebody can pick me up? We'll forget about this whole incident." Matthew thought it was quite generous under the circumstances.

"Only if you become one with Russia." Ivan replied smiling once again.

"Eh, let me get this straight, you will only allow me to come to your house if I agree to stay there under your rule?" Ivan nodded happily.

"Not unless hell freezes over."

"Nyet?" Ivan seemed to waver between a smile and a frown, the result being more like a grimace.

"Nyet." Matthew affirmed. Ivan stood and started to walk away, back to Matthew. Just before he was out of sight he turned to face him and whispered into the lightening gloom, "Matvey must leave my garden, you are not allowed to enter here ever again." He continued on his way scarf, dangling from his hand, trailing behind him. Trees and murky light soon obscured him. Matthew let himself fall back for a moment, not even bothering to try and work out what was happening. He pushed himself up, hugged Kuma under his chin and decided on the direction opposite to Russia's. "One day I'll be able to carry you." Kuma commented, tapping her moist nose against his chin.

* * *

"Manuscripts don't burn."*** Ivan affirmed, hand jerking to his neck to caress the rough skin. He set his book down, glanced out the window to the snowstorm again raging before flicking his gaze to the empty grate, wondering if it would be worth confirming that utterance. No. She wouldn't let it burn after all.

"Will you go now?" He didn't expect an answer, didn't look at her this time.

"Nyet." Her voice was quiet and Artic but cut through the air like a shout. Ivan froze in place, no longer seeing the empty grate but scared of turning his head lest he break whatever enchantment had caused such unexpected eloquence. He could feel her stare, hairs rising on the back of his neck - almost, if he turned slightly he'd be able to see her out of the corner of his eye. He didn't though.

"You can look at me." He turned his head cautiously. She sat looking at him face as still and expressive as a block of ice. He met her stare, her eyes shone like windows into frozen wastelands. She was not happy, he could feel it in those eyes.

"Ask me." It was an order.

"Why are you talking?"

"Not that."

"Why are you here?" She inclined her head very slightly. He could feel his heart sluggishly beating; the pulses seemed to echo in his ears.

"I am General Winter, I know you do not care for me but I am a balance to the to the summer. Everything must exist in balance Russia. Do you understand me?"

"Nyet." He could understand her basic meaning but there was something else she was trying to say.

"I am not surprised." There was a change in her tone, a certain wryness. Her mouth tiled into a lopsided smile. "You had a great empire Russia, you had many subordinates. You do not like me but I helped you, you know I did." He tilted his head to the side, "Do you understand me now?"

"You are punishing me." He could feel the beginning of understanding, "You are…balancing."

"Da. I am…balancing. I was good to you, many times, too many. I know you hurt Russia but I wanted you to change and I thought you would. You haven't though. You still have no friends, will make no friends. A true friend must be your equal. You can't treat them like they are less than you. You cannot show your affection through cruelty." Ivan frowned at her, hands once more straying to his neck.

"Why now, why are you talking to me now?" She smiled though there was nothing approaching warmth in the gesture.

"I think you know." Was all she supplied. He really didn't. He asked again but her face had once more smoothed out and she stared at the falling snow offering, once again, only silence. He huffed, throwing sullen glances between her and the falling snow. "I'm going out." He remarked to the reticent lady. Nothing. He got his coat and his bloodied scarf and walked out into the darkening day.

* * *

Ivan was angry. No he was _furious_. He looked at his tree finding it cleaved in two. His garden was no longer warm but colder than the very place he escaped from. Cold mist wreathed around the broken tree. He approached it, finding a patina of frost covering the bark. Of course she had known about it. She knew about everywhere winter touched. He'd put up with her for long enough though. He reached into his coat and felt reassurance in the form of a metal pipe. He needed answers.

His world was white rage, every flake that landed on him served to heat his fury till steam curled around his striding figure. He entered the house and found her exactly where she had been, still looking to the snowstorm that raged beyond the window. He didn't bother to try and catch her attention, she was like Iron. When Iron got too cold though it became brittle and broke easily. Ivan removed his pipe and swung in at the back of her head, tap first. Pain lanced through his hands, pain so cold it burned. He tried to drop the pipe in terror but found it frozen to his hand, his uninjured hand, he corrected before wrenching it off, skin blistering and tearing. He cradled his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Why?" He asked again, "Why now?"

She replied without turning to look at him. "You know." Letting out a strangled scream he retreated from her bitter presence, retiring to his room where pain relief awaited him.

* * *

He gulped down Vodka ignoring the burning of his throat. How had it come to this? Was he to have no retreat? No place that could possible make him happy?

Had it though, had his garden of no flowers really made him happy or was it like the Vodka, another way to get by? He cast his mind back to the moment he thought he'd seen a sunflower. That had made him happy. For one insane instant he'd felt spring's promise. It had just been Canada though. Just one more nation who could not bear to be his friend, would rather walk through the snow alone than accept the help of Ivan. General Winter's words rang in his ears. _Equals._ The image of an enraged Canada throwing himself on top of Russia, hands tightening on his neck came back to him. Today must have had something to do with Winter's unusual expressiveness and all that had happened was his meeting with Canada. The other nation had not known how he had come to be in Ivan's garden. He had asked for his help but refused to become one, he had defended himself. He wouldn't accept not being an equal. He had refused to accept Ivan's brutal affection. Why though? Liet had accepted it and Latvia and Estonia. Except they hadn't…they had left him as soon as they could. They didn't visit and didn't treat Ivan as a friend. They didn't like him at all, they just feared him. He thought he liked that, it was better than equal, they weren't allowed to hurt him that way - but they had managed it anyway had they not? And Belarus! He loved his sister dearly but she wanted to force on him something he didn't want…she used threats and tried to coerce him into marriage. He didn't like it when she did that. Ukraine, she had given him the scarf and made him happy but then she had wanted something and he had felt less happy. The scarf had been tarnished. She had always looked after him though; she had given him so much. She was a good big sister, like a mother to Belarus and him. He…had not been fair to her at all. Thoughts chased around his head, memories, fragments and he drank all the while until darkness took him and he dozed into a fitful slumber full of ice-sculpted sunflowers.

* * *

Ivan awoke to a changed day. He could still feel the chill from next door, it was still dark and the North Wind still rattled his windows. He'd go to his garden like usual. It would be changed but he would go anyway because it had comforted him. He'd look to the stars like usual and instead of distaining them as distant and cold he'd thank them for their constant vigilance.

He approached his garden to find it as it had been yesterday morning. The tree was whole, the air warmer and there was even a flash of gold. He did not dismiss it or turn from it this time but rushed to the spot he'd seen it, finding Canada curled around his bear, lying in his pajamas in the snow. He didn't take off his glove to touch his face; it would be as glacial as it had been before. He gathered him up and enfolded him in his long coat, cuddling him to his chest. He finally understood.

He let Canada sleep as he had done yesterday, sitting in the bowl of his tree, Kuma at their feet. When the snowy flakes began to penetrate the branches above and swirl around him he ignored them, hugging the sleeping body closer to his heart. It was not long till Canada wakened, blinking sleepily and staring at Ivan's chest confused.

"Eh, Mr. Russia?"

"Da Matvey." Canada gave a small start.

"You know my name?" He whispered, incredulous. Ivan nodded smiling softly. "Where am I?"

"You are in Russia, Matvey." The same slightly scowl from before.

"Did you bring me here Mr. Russia?" Ivan had been expecting this and the sting he had felt last time was no longer there.

"Nyet. I just found you in the snow. Your bear does not know anything either." He added as an afterthought. "I have been keeping you warm, da."

Just like their previous encounter Matthew realised he was still wrapped up in Ivan's coat and moved back too quickly. Ivan let him fall, felt the scarf pull him down and whip off his tender skin and felt himself fall on top of the younger nation. He coughed, pushed himself onto all fours and leaned against the tree as before.

"I'm so sorry-" Matthew started, but Ivan held up a hand to cut him off.

"It was an accident, da? No need to be sorry." He watched as Matthew relaxed.

"Mr. Russia?" he ventured after an awkward silence in which Ivan had studied him intently.

"My name is Ivan, da?"

"I-ivan," He stammered, "Can I ask you a favour? I don't ha-"

"You look like a sunflower." Ivan cut in, causing Matthew's brows to furrow in confusion, "Sunflowers need warmth, Matvey, they need the sun." _Or they will surely die. _He rose from his spot against the tree extending a hand to Matthew who was still half-lying on the ground. He gestured encouragingly and felt gratified as Matthew hesitantly grasped his hand and allowed himself to be tugged to his feet. Ivan pulled Matthew into his coat once again, sharing his heat. "Sunflowers need to see the light or they wither and die. I will not let you die."

"I'm okay, really." Matthew assured. Ivan shook his head sadly.

"Nyet, you do not get the light you need. I understand. You need to use my phone, da, because no one realises you are gone and unless you tell them they will not for a long time." He felt Matthew's body stiffen suddenly. "You can use my house to call your brother Matvey, you can stay until he comes but it is not warm enough for a sunflower." Ivan sighed, melancholia settling over him like the snow.

"You don't want me to become one with Russia?" Matthew asked, unsure where the thought had come from. It was Ivan's turn to stiffen but it only lasted a second before he relaxed again.

"No but I would like if you became friends with Ivan." It was spoken softly, barely above a whisper and Ivan tried to suppress the shivering worry he felt.

"Eh?" Matthew questioned himself, "Of course if Ru-Ivan wants to be friends. Thank you for the help." Ivan could feel warmth he couldn't remember last experiencing pour into his body, into his heart. He felt like he would overflow. This was the last of his heat, his last defiance against Winter and he had a sunflower to protect from the cold, dark night. He gripped Matthew tighter, pouring all the warmth he possessed into his disregarded being. A penumbra of golden light surrounded them both. Ivan could feel the approach of dawn; the General was coming for him. He ignored her and kept pouring his warmth into Matthew and the surrounding glade. And it was, he realized with a start, a beautiful glade. Winter seemed to have retreated from this place and sun shone through the branches casting dappled light on the forest floor. Spring noises filled the air and the ground was green with vegetation. There were flowers growing! Snowbells, bluebells, daffodils and wood sorrel carpeted the ground. He could feel the cold start to enter his body, the world seemed to tilt and spin and he was too weak to stand. Sunflowers, though, surrounded him, scorching sun shining down upon him. Matthew lowered him to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. "No you shouldn't have Ivan! Why?" His voice was small and sad.

"You know why." Ivan answered with an enigmatic smile. Matthew nodded, fresh tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. He could no longer feel the sun. The frost crept along his arteries, towards his heart. Matthew saw the hoar frost covering Ivan's body, he was dying.

"Matvey." He muttered. Matthew shook away his tears and leaned down, pressing his lips to Ivan's frozen brow. He lifted Ivan's head, laying it across his lap and looked down into violet eyes, so much like his own.

"_Ah Sunflower, weary of time,__  
__Who countest the steps of the sun;__  
__Seeking after that sweet golden clime__  
__Where the traveller's journey is done;__  
_

_Where the Youth pined away with desire,__  
__And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,__  
__Arise from their graves, and aspire__  
__Where my Sunflower wishes to go" _

He buried his face in Ivan's hair smelling the crisp frost of Winter. Ivan smiled up at him, "It is appropriate, da?" Matthew nodded, not trusting his voice. "If I am smiling you should be smiling. I don't want to see you sad." Matthew thought of Ivan's sacrifice and smiled at him.

"Your heart is very warm." Ivan's smile was rueful.

"I took my time. It will soon be very cold though."

"Maybe." Matthew acceded, "But you will sleep among the sunflowers and the sun will always be looking down on you and they will not die and it'll never get cold here." Ivan noted how sure he sounded.

"You think so, da?" Matthew shook his head and Ivan's grin diminished.

"Eh? I know so."

"Good. She is approaching now." Matthew sighed, he could feel her, he knew Lady Winter well but he had never truly minded her, not till now. "Don't be angry at her, it was my fault. I didn't understand until it was too late. She gave me a chance to atone."

"What for?" Matthew asked, aware of Ivan's past but unsure how to take his comment.

"For everything." Well that would have to do.

Matthew eased Ivan upright and embraced him, feeling weak arms encircle him. He kissed his brow again, colder now than before.

"I will find you here again," He whispered into the others ear, "Just sleep now and I'll be here when you wake." Ivan felt her enter the clearing and the Ice enter his heart and Matthew lowered him to the ground to sleep amongst the Sunflowers.

* * *

Ivan awoke to the insistent sound of birds chirping outside the window. He lurched up, blankets rolling off him to fall to the floor. She was no longer here. He got out of bed and stretched, reveling in the warmth of the air, moving to the window to be greeted by a sea of green washed with a warm gold. It was morning. It was cloudless. He laughed triumphantly and rushed next-door finding no one there and the room untouched from the last time Belarus had stayed over. He slowly made his way downstairs trying to recount the last two years in his head…and his death. He had died, had he not? Winter couldn't just end like that. What was going on? Time didn't feel right. Belarus and Ukraine has visited him only a week past! He found an empty bottle of Vodka in front of the fire. _Well that could explain things, da?_ He left the living room and entered the kitchen down the hall. There was a sunflower sitting in a glass. A blue ribbon tied to the glass carried a card, which read, "You know." _Kolkolkol, it's like that is it?_

Ivan put on his coat, and wound his clean scarf around his neck, which was free from any bruises. He opened the door and walked out into the bright day. He paused on the doorstep, looking back into the hall. He cautiously took up his pipe and closed the door behind him. He thought that it was a good day for traveling.

* * *

* 'The snowstorm covers' is a line from a poem by Pushkin. It is referenced in the book 'The Master and Margarita' by Mikhail Bulgakov.

** 'Ah, Sunflower' is a poem written by William Blake.

*** 'Manuscripts don't burn' is a famous line from 'The Master and Margarita' and was seen as quite significant in Soviet Russia where there was a lot of censorship at the time of its publication.

I was planning on writing a second part based on the snow queen featuring General Winter again but I have lost all my plans since for once I hand wrote them. I have no idea when I will update. My other plan was to make it a series on one shots loosely based on fairy tale and mythological type stories. I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but couldn't bring myself to edit it. It's not the tone I usually write in and I cringed every time I started to read over it. I decided though the only way to improve was to post it. I might have missed out some mistakes here and there so please feel free to point any out. Reviews and criticisms appreciated.


End file.
